BA55
by Lumora The White
Summary: The following is a one-shot cannon compliant within 'The Family Business' universe. Christine Elliott and Dean Winchester centric. As they often tell each other, 'to hell and back, whatever the cost.' Season 10 - Ep 03 - Soul Survivor


_The following is a one-shot cannon compliant within __**'**__**The Family Business**__**' **__universe. Christine Elliott (OFC) lost her parents to demons. She grew up as a ward of Bobby Singer. Only two years younger than Dean, the two form a bond that has lasted them through life__'__s many up and downs. As they often tell each other, __'__to hell and back, whatever the cost.__'_

* * *

**BA55**

Soul Survivor Season 10 - Ep 03

**Prologue - Then**

Dean looked into Christine's eyes and then Sam's. He insisted they stop carrying him so he could say something. "I'm proud of us." He said, choking a little on his own blood. Sam held him his arms, Christine tenderly cradled the back of Dean's head and cheek in her palms. She felt him take a breath, and then he didn't take another one.

"Hey, hey, hey, Dean! C'mon, wake up buddy!" Sam coaxed, trying to get Dean upright again.

"Dean, no…" Christine sobbed, "stay with us, Winchester!" She ordered, her fingers squeezing his cheek a little. She locked eyes with Sam, he shook his head and choked back a sob.

They carried Dean back to the Impala. Christine slid into the backseat, and cradled Dean's head in her lap. She hummed, 'Smoke on the Water' while tears streamed down her face, silent sobs wracking her body. Sam drove as fast as he could back to the bunker, locking eyes with Christine every so often in the rearview mirror. She looked ragged, yet her eyes smoldered with rage. He could tell she was thinking the same thing. Rather, _who_ they needed to find. _Crowley_.

* * *

**Six Weeks Later - Now**

"Dean's a what?" Christine screeched into the phone, causing Sam to pull it away from his ear.

"Dean's a demon." Sam repeated with a sigh. "Look, we know how to cure demons. We'll just have to-"

"Find a Padre, and a blood bank. Way ahead of you Sam," Christine muttered, pulling a u-turn in the middle of the road. She was headed to meet up with Sheriff Mills. She'd have to make a few calls to cover her ass and send help Jodi's way. "Let me make a few calls. Any idea where he and Crowley are holed up?" She wasn't will Sam because they thought their leads had gone cold. A case came up in their area so Christine jumped on it.

Sam nodded, "At a bar called, The Black Spur-"

"Beulah, North Dakota." She finished for him. "Uh," She cleared her throat. "Dean and I well, never mind how I know where it is, I just do." Damn. She should have thought of this. This was the bar where they first sang karaoke together. She'd finally gotten him tipsy enough that he got up and sang with her.

"How far are you out?" Sam asked, reading a map.

"Too far. You go ahead. I'll be right behind you." She assured him. Then she hung up and called Jodi Mills, and then a few hunters she knew were in the area. Once she'd covered her ass, she stepped on it, hightailing it towards the bar.

* * *

She arrived an hour later and jumped out of the little pinto she'd hot-wired when they arrived in town. They didn't take Roxy for fear of a demon spotting it and tipping off Crowley. Slipping a flask of holy water in her back pocket, she loaded a clip of bullets she'd carved with devil's traps, into her gun. Jogging over to the bar, she spotted Dean, and Cole Trenton fighting. She and Sam had just escaped Cole clutches. Obviously he followed Sam right here. Sam lay a few feet away, crumpled on the ground. "_Balls_," She muttered under her breath. Circling the building, she could hear Dean taunting Cole. His voice sounded gruff, and completely full of himself. "I_ hate _demons." She grumbled, kneeling next to Sam who had just come to. "How many fingers?" She asked in a whisper, helping Sam to his feet.

He scoffed, "I'm good. Thanks." Sam glanced around to make sure the area was clear of anyone besides Dean, Cole and the two of them.

Dean had Cole by the throat. "You have no idea what you walked into here, do you? None." He taunted with a smirk.

"What are you?" Cole asked, his voice wavering as he watched the cut heal on Dean's cheek.

"I'm a demon." Dean answered, flicking his eyes to black and back again. Then he threw Cole around some more before pinning him against a jeep, holding the first blade to his throat.

"Do it!" Cole shouted, "You said if you saw me, you would kill me, so do it!" He looked like a mad man.

"I guess I changed my mind." Dean sighed, releasing Cole, talking a step back.

Christine charged forward, taking out her holy water flask and spraying Dean with it. His skin began to hiss with steam, she could feel the heat coming off him in waves. Sam rushed forward, snapping on the sigil handcuffs he brought from the bunker. Dean reached up and Sam snapped the second cuff on. "Stop! It's over! It's over!" Sam shouted, chest heaving. Dean roared in protest, looking more like a wild animal than a man.

* * *

Sam stood facing away from the Impala, handing over the first blade to Crowley. As much as she hated the conceited little twat, he was probably the safest person to leave the blade with while they dealt with Dean.

"Thanks Padre. Sam will meet you there in the morning." Christine said, hanging up her phone call. She arranged for Carter, a local hunter to meet with Sam at the hospital in Lebanon tomorrow morning. He'd bless and purify some blood so they could get this show on the road.

Christine leaned back against the passenger side of the Impala, arms crossed across her chest. The bottom of her black tank top had ridden up a little in the back, exposing her heated skin to the cool evening air. Her Colt 1911 rested cool and snuggly against the small of her back, a glimmering ivory and silver temptation for the Demon seated just inches away in the back seat.

Dean leaned forward, eyeing the piece seemingly just ripe for the taking.

"Ow!" Dean yelled when his shackled hands grasped the ivory grip. "What the-" He let go, falling back against the seat.

"Really, Dean? You honestly think I'd just dangle it in your face if it wasn't warded?" Christine scoffed, not evening bothering to turn around.

Dean groaned as his fingertips continued to hiss. "Bitch!" He snapped, baring his teeth.

"Demon." She hissed back, finally turning to face him. He looked up at her with a mix of confusion, lust and hatred. This most definitely was Dean, just a twisted and warped version. Either the mark or his time in hell, She would bet her right arm it was a combination of both, had wooed his soul over to the dark side.

He flicked his eyes black, "That is what I am. sweet cheeks." He purred with a predatory smile, letting his eyes go back to their normal green.

Sam returned to the Impala, and Christine climbed in the passenger seat.

"This thing is filthy." Christine said as they pull out and head towards the bunker.

"It's just a car, baby." He shrugged, staring out the window.

"It's just a...car". Wow. You really have gone dark." Sam scoffed.

"You have no idea." He drawled with a smirk.

"You know what, Dean? I saw what happened back there. You could have killed that guy, and you didn't. You took mercy on him." Sam tried to reason with Dean, prove to him he wasn't as far gone as they all were afraid he really was.

Christine knew what was coming. Dean didn't show Cole any mercy, if anything, he was crueler than she truly wanted to admit.

Dean chuckled darkly, "You call that mercy? Imagine you spend your whole life hunting down the guy that knifed your father. When you finally find him... He whips you like a dog. How do you think that feels? That kid's gonna spend his whole life knowing that he had his shot and that he couldn't beat me. That ain't mercy. That's the worst thing I could have done to him." He paused for a breath, leaning forward. "And what I'm gonna do to you, Sammy... Well, that ain't gonna be mercy, either."

* * *

"Relax. He's not going anywhere." Sam assured Christine after securing Dean to a chair in the middle of the Devil's trap on the floor of the bunker's dungeon. He stood in front of her, blocking her view of Dean, both hands resting on her shoulders.

Christine nodded. "I know." She could feel tears coming on.

"You don't have to stay, Chris." Sam said taking a quick breath, "Actually you probably shouldn't stay. Why don't you lie down and get some sleep while I run this errand?" His voice took on the tenderness he had been showing her since Dean had disappeared. Demon Dean ate it up.

"Chris?" Dean piped up with mock interest, "It's _Chris_ now?" He scoffed. "Oh, I knew you couldn't just be a one man woman. You really are quite the little slut aren't you?" He teased, obviously wanting to get a rise out of her and Sam.

"That's enough, Dean!" Sam shouted turning around, flinging holy water at his face. Dean roared in pain, and growled at them.

"Sam," Christine murmured, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from dousing Dean any further. "You need to go." Sam pulled back and handed her the flask.

"Stay outside the circle. No matter what he says." Sam ordered, then left the two of them alone.

"Well, well." Dean chuckled darkly. "Sammy's a good lay, but you know I'm better." He drawled, licking his lips. "Hell, how long we been together, baby?" He asked.

"8 years," Christine answered, then pursed her lips, "give or take." Their time Hell really threw her for a loop. It was hard to let Dean touch her again, let alone kiss and make her lose control after all he did to her in the pit. He got off the rack, but she stayed. He carved into her everyday for 10 years until Castiel came and plucked them both from the fire. She'd forgiven him, and now here was the fully realized Dean she came to know so well in the pit.

"Oh, it's been more than that. We lived through 40 years together in Hell. Remember, sweet cheeks?" He asked with a cheeky smile. He almost looked like himself, save for the intensity around his eyes. They seemed to smolder with hate, even when his mouth was smiling or his cheeks lifted in a laugh.

"How could I forget?" She took a few steps forward, circling him. He watched her with rapt attention, shifting slightly in his seat. She felt herself being drawn to him, her foot crossed the Devil's trap and she stepped back like she'd been burned.

"Oh, don't worry, Chris." Dean laughed, enjoying her pain. "I'm gonna make sure you never forget. Even if this is successful and I do turn back into my pathetic human self, you won't be able to look at this face without seeing Alastair's most prized apprentice." He promised, his chest swelling with bravado. He was enjoying teasing her.

Christine snapped. She rushed forward, slapping him hard across the face. "How dare you!" She shouted, gripping the front of his maroon button up shirt just under the collar. She leaned over him, her face dangerously close to his. He just smiled back at her, flicking his eyes to black. She started to pull back, but Dean had other ideas.

"Oh no, you don't!" He exclaimed. Suddenly he moved his knees outward, causing her knees to buckle, forcing her to straddle his lap. Her chest collided with his, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Her lips crashed down on his because of their proximity, and he let out a deep groan at the contact. Her eyes drifted closed and she surrendered to the moment. Six weeks, give or take since she'd felt him this close. Six weeks since she'd breathed in his live scent. Sure, she'd worn a few of his shirts to bed and cuddled his pillow, but nothing could compare to the real McCoy. His mouth tasted of whiskey and smoke, laced with the unmistakable flavor of pure Dean. He smelled divine, the irony made her lip quirk up a little before she fully realized what was happening. "I need to touch you baby," Dean whined, rubbing his scruffy cheek against her jaw. "I can show you how much I need you, sweetness." He bit her collarbone, earning a moan from her lips. He bucked his hips up, rubbing his erection against her core. "Untie me, baby."

Christine felt like cold water had been dumped over her head. Untie him? Not a snowball's chance. "Nice try, Demon," She spat, her voice shaking a little. She pulled back, pushing off his lap and retreating out of the circle.

"What would Sam say if he knew how shamelessly you responded to me?" He asked, his eyes dancing with amusement, "hmmmm, sweet cheeks?" He asked with a pout.

"Don't make me gag you, you black-eyed son of a bitch!" She hissed, continuing to back away. She reached out and slammed shut the file box lined shelves that hid the dungeon away from storage room.

"Oh, don't worry that pretty little blonde head of yours. Human Dean still wants to kiss and make up, even if you have been screwing Sam. Hell, he might even go for a threesome!" Dean shouted with a triumphant laugh.

Christine leaned against the shelving and prayed for Sam to come a quickly as possible. If he didn't hurry, she was going to slit Dean's throat before they had a chance to cure him.

* * *

The blood treatments shouldn't be causing him pain like this. Even Dean seemed a little wary of the reaction he was having. Instinct was kicking in, and he was fighting Sam tooth and nail while he administered the treatments.

Sam walked into the room that Christine and Dean shared to find her sitting on the bed. She held some photographs in her hands. A sad smile played on her lips while tears streamed down her cheeks. He knelt down so he was eye level with her. "Chris," He said softly, "That isn't really Dean."

Christine shook her head, 'I'm afraid he's more Dean than you or I want to admit." She took a deep breath. "He's just like when he apprenticed under-"

"Alastair." Sam sighed. She looked really shaken up. He sometimes forgot she went to Hell with Dean. They way she bounced back, put the darkness behind her. It was different than the way Dean dealt with it. Now it seemed the darkness was catching up. He stood up, kissing the top of her head. "Get some rest. It will be over soon." Closing the door behind him, he returned to the dungeon, filled with new resolve. It was time to get his brother back.

She spent a little time leafing through the photographs again, then she put tucked them under a book. Christine lay back against the mattress, letting her eyes fall closed. Toeing off her boots, she curled onto her side, letting the tears flow. She almost drifted off, but a sound outside the door caused her to tense door flew open as the room was plunged into complete darkness. The red emergency lights came on and the bunker alarm sounded. She sat up, trying to contain her panic.

All of a sudden, rough hands gripped her in the red tinted darkness. A hand clapped over her mouth and another pulled her wrists together over her head, pushing her flat onto the mattress. Dean loomed above her, a wicked smile playing at his lips. "Hey there, sweet cheeks." He murmured. "Now, I"m gonna let go, you make a sound and Daddy won't have a choice but to slit that pretty little throat of yours." He purred into her ear as he straddled her hips. "Here we go." He lifted his hand off her mouth. She whimpered in pain, as he bound her hands over her head with the rope Sam had used to tie him to the chair. "Good girl," He soothed, pressing his lips to hers. He forced her lips open with his tongue, all the while, trying to force open her thighs. She continued to remain silent, but didn't let him pry her open. He grunted in frustration. "C'mon baby. I know you want it." He roughly grabbed her breast, "You're Daddy's little whore. Don't be such a prude." He spat. Something clattered to the floor down the hall, drawing his attention away from her trembling body. "I'll be right back sweet cheeks. I'll take care of Sammy, then it will be just you and me." His wicked smile was back. "Don't go anywhere." He growled, smoothing his hand all the way from her wrists, down to her sex. He cupped her roughly with a dark chuckle. He pushed off the bed, and disappeared out into the hallway.

She heard him yell as he rounded the corner, "Smart, Sam! Locking the place down. Doors won't open. I get it. But here's the thing: I don't want to leave! Not 'til I find you!" He bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls, giving his declaration an ominous feel.

Christine forced herself to breathe. Panic had set in and she was having trouble focusing on remaining calm. Dean would be beside himself with this new encounter. It was enough that he'd call her a slut and a whore. Now he had plans to rape her and most likely eventually kill her. She shook her head, clearing away the fog of her emotions. This was just like any other demon hunt. "Focus, Christine." She murmured aloud, sitting up. She wiggled a little to flip up the switchblade she hid in her belt, and quickly sliced off the restraints. Standing up, she unsheathed the demon knife Dean had entrusted to his, 'badass demon huntress'. It was time to catch a monster.

* * *

Sam ran away as Dean busted through the control room door. Glancing over his shoulder, he collided with something softer than a wall, but harder than a pillow. "Sam!" Christine exclaimed in a whisper as she took in a face full of plaid.

"Come on, Sammy! Let's have a beer, talk about it. I'm tired of playing. Let's finish this game!" Dean shouted, his voice echoing off the bunker's walls.

"Sorry!" He whispered back, holding her at arm's length. He took in the sight of her. Her hair was a wreck, her wrists were bruised, and her jaw sported marks that vaguely resembled fingers."Oh my God! Did he-"

"I'm fine," Christine cut him off. She waved him forward, trying to put as much distance between them and Dean as possible. From the sound of his voice, he was right on their heels. "Did you call Cas?" She asked, as they peered around into the next hallway. Empty.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I-" He turned around only to have Dean swing a hammer directly at his head. Sam ducked in time, so the hammer lodged into the wall instead of his skull.

Christine stepped forward, wielding the demon knife. She pressed it to Dean's throat and scowled up at him.

"Well …Look at you." Dean taunted, his eyes challenging her to follow through with her threat. "Do it. It's all you, babe." He looked like he wanted her to do it, wanted her to go there. Christine locked eyes with their new arrival over Dean's shoulder. She let the knife fall and stepped back. Dean smiled, letting his eyes flick to black as he stepped forward arms going for her throat.

Suddenly Castiel wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in tight. Dean growled in protest, struggling against the angel's hold.

"It's over," Castiel assured them, his eyes burning blue with his newly acquired grace. "Dean, it's over!" Dean continued to roar, his black eyes burning with contempt.

* * *

An hour later, Christine returned to the dungeon with some cold wash clothes. Dean was burning up, and demon or not, he wasn't going to die on her watch.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Welcome back, Dean." He smiled.

Dean locked eyes with Christine across the room. His face was wet, probably from the flask Sam held in his hand. He looked stricken, and a more than a little shaken. His lips formed a tight smile. He nodded at her, and before he could say anything, she felt herself waiver a little. Knees buckling, she stepped forward to steady herself on a stack of boxes. Before she could steady herself, she fell forward as darkness overtook her.

"What did Sam say? Does he want a divorce?" Dean asked Castiel who had come to check on him. Sam had evidently followed through on his promise to go rustle up some grub.

"I'm sure Sam knows that whatever you said or what you did, it wasn't really you. It certainly wasn't all you."

"I tried to kill him, Cas." Dean sighed, "I tried to do worse to her…" He trailed off, looking at the woman passed out on the bed beside him.

"Dean. You two have been through so much. Look, you're brothers. It'd take a lot more than trying to kill Sam with a hammer to make him want to walk away." Castiel assured him. "As for Christine, she is tougher than she looks. She forgave you after your time in Hell. I think you underestimate her love for you."

"You realize how screwed up our lives are, that that even makes sense?" Dean scoffed with chagrin. Castiel just laughed, nodding his head. It was true. How messed up did it have to be for you to forgive someone for becoming a demon?

Dean laughed a little too. "I'm glad you're here, man." He smiled.

Castiel turned to leave, but then turned back to Dean, "Hey, maybe you should um … take some time before you get back to work. Allow yourself to heal." Dean looked at him questioningly. Castiel cleared his throat, "It's, uh … I don't know. The timing might be right. Heaven and Hell—they seem reasonably back in order. It's quiet out there." Then he left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Dean and Christine alone.

Christine woke with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed, hands flying to her heaving chest.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean soothed, turning to face her.

Panic and shock crossed her face. She scrambled off the bed, drawing the demon knife from her belt. "Stay back, you monster!" She shouted, chest heaving.

Dean slowly stood up, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, easy." he said calmly, "If I was still a demon, would I drink this?" He asked with a raised brow, lifting the flask of holy water to his lips. He swallowed a few times, his eyes never leaving hers.

Christine's brow furrowed. He didn't buckle in pain, he just wiped his mouth and screwed the lid back on, setting the flask on the sink. "It worked?" She asked, still holding the knife out in front of her.

Dean nodded, "Yeah," He sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not a demon anymore, Chris."

"Dean?" She asked in wonderment, lowing the knife. Christine felt the darkness that had overcome her earlier closing in again. Dean noticed her sway a little, and stepped forward to catch demon knife clattered to the floor as she melted. He caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap, sitting down on the side of the bed. She shook as soul deep sobs wracked her body. She clung to his shirt, burying her face in his neck.

Dean held her tight, running his fingers through her hair. He pressed kisses to her temple, "Shhh, baby." He crooned. "I'm so, so, sorry." He whispered, his own tears spilling over silently down his cheeks. He scooted up the bed so he was resting against the headboard, still cradling her to his chest. After a few moments, she pulled away to look at him. He caught sight of the bruising along her jaw, and around her wrists. "Oh, baby." He groaned. "I did this?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

She just covered his hands with her own. "I'm okay," She whispered, giving him a brave smile.

Dean felt something inside him snap back into place. He may still have the mark, but he was never going back to what he was. "You're incredible." He murmured, cradling her face between his hands. He leaned forward slowly, giving her time to refuse or back away.

Christine knew that look. Dean was going to kiss her. Instead of shying away, she let his lips collide with hers softly. He moved his lips gently against hers, pulling her closer to him. He swept his tongue against the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. Suddenly it was all too much. She turned her head, averting her gaze, letting out a breath with a soft whoosh.

"Sorry, I-" Dean started to say.

"Dean," Christine cut him off. "It's okay. I just need time." She sighed. "I'm having a hard time believing its really you after…" She trailed off, scooting away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"After I tried to rape you." Dean finished with a sigh.

She nodded. "You were so much like when-" a sob tore at her throat.

He knew exactly what she was getting at. "When I was Alastair's bitch." He spat, shuddering at the memory. She was right. He was more like a demon when he started torturing in Hell than they really knew.

"Yeah," She whispered, standing up. She moved about the room, gathering some clean clothes. "I'm going to go wash up before Sam gets back. We've been on the road all week tracking your ass." She flashed him a smile and disappeared out the door, closing it behind her.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore under his breath. How as he going to fix this? Hell was going too far; there was no way someone should get past all that. Still, she forgave him. Now what was he going to do?

* * *

Sam returned from his food run to find Dean sitting at the table, thumbing through a book. "Hey," Sam said softly. "I've got bacon cheeseburgers with all the trimmings." He smiled, setting the bags of food on the table. It was good to see him up and about. He looked so tired earlier. Maybe food would be a great step in the right direction. "Is Christine awake?" He handed Dean a wrapped sandwich.

"Oh, uh." Dean started to say but stopped as he heard glasses clink together in the kitchen.

Christine emerged from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. "Hey Sam," She greeted him brightly, the warmth didn't quite reach her eyes. She came and stood next to Sam across from Dean. She poured each of them a drink. She handed Sam his, but set Dean's in front of him. Sam noticed the distance between the usually close couple and frowned.

Dean drank in the sight of her. Her blonde hair tumbled down past her shoulders almost to her elbows, the curls fresh and bouncy from her shower. She wore her usual cropped yoga pants and tank, but she wore a hooded sweatshirt over top. The bunker was chilly, but he guess it was mostly for comfort rather than warmth. Either it was big, or she had lost some weight since he'd been away. Her feet were bare, and he could see the fuchsia polish that matched her finger nails. All the years he'd been with her, he never got tired of 'checking her out'. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He reached out to take the drink she poured, but she set it down on the table before he could take it from her. He pursed his lips, "Thanks," He murmured, locking eyes with her. She quickly looked away, sitting down with a chair between them. This wasn't going to be easy.

They all ate in companionable silence. Dean mentioned Cas's suggestion to relax for a little while. "Cas says I should take a little time. Seems everything is pretty quiet." He drawled, knocking his glass back.

"That sounds like a great idea," Sam agreed. "I think we could all use a break."

All Christine could do was nod. She managed to choke down half her cheeseburger and a few fries. Dean noticed she wasn't eating. _So the sweatshirt isn__'__t big, she__'__s just lost her appetite. We__'__ll have to fix that__…_He thought, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

Sam offered to clean up, and Dean followed him into the kitchen.

Christine found herself drawn to the baby grand piano Dean found in the storage locker tucked away in the loft of the garage. It took them an entire weekend to move the damn thing to a place where she could play it, but it had been entirely worth it. Music had really been the only constant in her life. She sat down on the bench, and lifted the lid. She started to play, finding herself drawn to the last album Dean surprised her with before the big showdown with Metatron.

Glorious by Foxes had become her life line when Dean disappeared from the bunker. Christine smiled softly as her fingers began to play, 'Night Glo,' from the album. She swallowed the last bit of whiskey in her glass and cleared her throat.

_Hear the noise, tonight_

_You burned out your light_

_Breathe you in, hold you down_

_You don't have to tread the line_

_Stop the noise, world's getting louder_

_Try to hide, like a child_

_Hard to see, too hard to find_

_You don't have to tread the line_

_You don't have to tread the line_

The piano reached Dean's ears as he and Sam finished up cleaning in the kitchen. Sam settled in an arm chair by the stacks of books, giving Dean a reassuring smile and nod. Dean continued to the other side of the great room to where the piano sat. Christine's voice washed over him in waves.

_And does it hurt you?_

_Do you feel when I try to touch?_

_Are you scared now?_

_If I open up maybe you will_

_When soldiers are calling_

_Just run through the night glo_

_Drown out the voices_

_And you know you don't have to go_

_Then you know you don't have to go_

Her hands flew over the keys with practiced ease. This song really helped her hold out hope that she'd be able to find and cure Dean. Now that it was a reality, the music made it even more real somehow. She looked up to find Dean leaning against the piano, sipping his glass of whiskey. His eyes were closed, and he had a small smile playing on his lips.

_Kill the noise, tonight_

_You burned out your light_

_All the kings and all the men_

_Can't put you together again_

_Can't put you together again_

_And does it hurt you?_

_Do you feel when I try to touch?_

_Are you scared now?_

_If I open up maybe you will_

_When soldiers are calling_

_Just run through the night glo_

_Drown out the voices_

_And you know you don't have to go_

Christine really did have a remarkable gift. The way she sang, the lyrics, the rising and falling piano melody line really calmed his charred and broken soul. He moved to sit next to her on the piano bench, setting his glass down on the piano.

_And does it hurt you?_

_Do you feel when I try to touch?_

_Are you scared now?_

_If I open up maybe you will_

_Soldiers are calling_

_Just run through the night glo_

_Drown out the voices_

_And you know you don't have to go_

_When soldiers are calling_

_Just run through the night glo_

_Drown out the voices_

_And you know you don't have to go_

She continued to play, and he just watched her fingers glide over the keys. She used her whole body to express the music. The tune turned a little brighter, and he recognized the hook. She didn't sing the lyrics, but he wanted, no he needed, to hear them. He cleared his throat, drawing her gaze."Will you sing the rest?" He asked quietly, wrapping his arm around her back, resting his palm against the bench on the other side of her hip.

She bit her lip and nodded. She took a deep breath and sang the rest of Anberlin's 'The Unwinding Cable Car':

_Backing away from the problem of pain_

_You never had a home_

_You've been misguided, you're hiding in shadows_

_For so very long_

_Don't you believe that you've been deceived?_

_That you're no better_

_Than the hair in your eyes_

_It never disguised what you're really thinking of_

_This is the correlation of salvation and love_

_Don't drop your arms_

_Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart_

_With quiet words, I'll lead you in_

_You're so brilliant, don't soon forget_

_You're so brilliant, grace marked your heart_

_You're so brilliant, don't soon forget_

_You're so brilliant, grace marked your heart_

Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she kept singing. She needed this just as much as Dean did.

_This is the correlation between salvation and love_

_Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart_

_With quiet words, I'll lead you in and out of the dark!_

_This is the correlation of salvation and love_

_Don't drop your arms_

_Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart_

_With quiet words, I'll lead you in_

She let the last chord ring out, wiping her face on her sleeve. She sniffled and he pulled her into his chest. "Thank you." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. He felt her nod against his shirt, tightening her grip around his neck. He closed the lid on the piano keys and lifted her off the bench. Carrying her bridal style, he left the great room, walking past Sam's now vacant chair. Hopefully Sam was drunk, and sleeping it off. Lord knows, he need the rest.

Dean entered their room and set Christine down on the edge of the bed. She pulled off the sweatshirt, tossing it at her dresser. "You okay?" Dean asked, she nodded. He sighed, "I'll just sleep on the couch." He turned to leave the room.

"Stay," Christine whispered, "Please." Her voice broke. "I've been without you for almost two months, please don't make it any longer." She sounded afraid and small.

"Always, baby." He drawled with a warm smile, closing the door. He pulled off his t-shirt and shed his jeans and boots. She clicked off the lamp, and they settled under the covers. He lay on his back, Christine curled against him, her head pillowed on his chest, legs intertwined with his.

She sighed, sinking deeper into his embrace. "Hmmm. Welcome to back Dean." She smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest. He ran his fingers through her curls, holding her tightly to him. "I agree with Cas." She kissed his chest again, "Vacation sounds nice."

Dean chuckled at that. Castiel did have a point. Heaven and Hell were relatively back in order, and things did seem pretty quiet. "Okay." He said softly. "Let's hit the beach." He felt her nod against his chest. He could tell she was already drifting off. He glanced at the clock. 1:00AM. What at time to start a vacation.

* * *

_from the author__'__s desk__…_

_BA55 - Switchfoot - I first heard this song last spring. I immediately thought of it when Season 10 began. A line in the song says, __"__I believe you are the fire that can burn me clean.__" __I thought of when Sam was trying to cure Crowley, it looked like fire was inside his veins. So i correlated that and the purified blood cure. The first verse also says, __"__Light the sky with my black-eyed dreams,__" __which I think is perfect for Dean and Crowley__'__s little fiasco. _

_Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading AND reviewing. Check out my other works with Christine Elliott as my OFC. _

_Long, Long Way From Home - WIP - Pre series, picks up in Season 2 _

_Black &amp; Gold - Season 5 Ep 04 - The End_

_BA55 - Season 10 Ep 03 - Soul Survivor _

_Thank you, I hope you enjoy this fandom as much as I do. You all rock!_

_xoxo_

_Lumora the White _


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